Odd Girl
Do others too strive to be relevant? Do they also think in their spare time ways to be significant? Do their heads as mine get enthralled by the thrill of mysteries? Of the unknown? Of the enigma?
"Perhaps yes, for I am no genius, no greater than anyone else..."
.......
"Trying to be someone you're not again?" a voice broke from a not far distance.
The girl buttoned her lips and closed the book as she heard footsteps coming her way. The mistress in her forties with her eyebrows frowned creating a dense look on her face approached the girl with her arms fixed behind her. It can be perceived that this lady was rather stern and authoritarian. Her big figure and impolite manner contributed to that notion. She was the type to create an atmosphere in a room where she is in.
A young lady stood before the mistress. Her dark eyes reflected that of a polished pearl and her dark hair suited her warm skin fairly enough. She smiled and greeted the woman before her.
"There are rather a lot of things-useful things young lady, that you are supposed to attend to! Yet here you are, in this poorly lit room with your head in that nonsense!"
To the mistress surprise, the young lady took light of it. She bowed down her head and made a quick smile.
She returned her gaze and said, "I'm sorry Mrs. Baker. I'll attend to them right away. Pardon my idleness. It shall not happen again."
The mistress was left speechless, or rather she did not know what to reply. She thought she was to deal with a stubborn brat, but the young lady was respectful to her, at least she thought in a mocking way. She was mature enough to not even bother to dismiss the rude remarks she said earlier.
The young lady put on her hat and walked out of the room. She smiled at the mistress as she passed her by, and this put an even more frown to the mistress face.
"After dinner."
The young lady paused and stood still.
"After dinner Miss Felice. You shall attend to them after dinner. Tell your brothers and sisters to gather themselves in the dining hall. It's half past seven already."
Without looking back at the mistress, the young lady answered, "Yes Mrs. Baker", and continued her pace out of the room.
A man who was leaning at the door untangled his arms and stood up straight. He was dirty. Stains and smudges on his jumper were prominent than the freckles on his face. He smelt of the soil, of the Earth itself, yet he was a good built, though old. His dark skin from scorching the sun fitted him. He worked as a gardener and an errand boy of the household.
"That one's different."
He placed his shovel behind a box resting on the left corner near the door.
"Mr. Woods, it's your doing, isn't it?"
"I only provided what the miss has asked of me." He smirked.
The lady rolled her eyes. It was evident she was irritated. She had a big sigh and nodded.
"My old gardener Mr. Woods, please, oh please do give me a favor and stop providing her with all those nonsense!"
The old man took off his hat and rolled up his sleeve. He seated himself.
"But they're just mere books madame! Aren't books good f-"
"Mere books that are poisoning that young lady's head!" the mistress interrupted. There was silence for a moment. Then the mistress broke the pause and uttered, "I'm sorry Mr. Woods." She realized she was being rude to the old man. Even though she was the head mistress of the orphanage, and that everybody sees her as this strict old lady who's always hot-headed, she still had conscience in her, and she still knew manner in addressing people older than her. Her conscience got her in the moment when she saw the exhausted face of the old man, who after working the whole day in the garden went inside to take his rest was greeted by her contemplation.
She walked out of the room and before she left she had told the gardener to clean the filth on him and follow her to the dining hall for dinner. She of course addressed it in a polite fashion.
.......
Sir Theodore Walter, an aristocrat who despite his controversies gained a lot of praise among the people in St. Thame- a town where the well-off are greatly valued. His family resides in a big mansion sitting on the left side of town. The place was well guarded, and few people, especially those who were not among his class were prevented from loitering around the area. Theodore Walter, though was always boastful of his wealth had a small heart for the poor. He donated a lot of his fortune to the children's hospital in his town, and even built an orphanage to shelter many street children. The orphanage which was named after him-Walter House-was headed by his cousin, a mistress who was an advocate for sheltering abandoned children. Madame Cecile Walter was a sophisticated woman, but it was not until she met her husband Mr. Robert Baker- a simple man that she opened her heart to the reality around her. Unfortunately, her Mr. Baker died in an accident not so long after the establishment of the orphanage. It was then Madame Cecile Baker devoted her life into attending the orphanage, as a promise to her late husband.
The establishment was left in her care and the family in the Walter House grew and grew. She opened her doors to children who had lost their families, and who were abandoned by their own parents out of financial difficulties. At first it was three, then the next week seven, until the last nine years, it fattened into housing seventy-four children. She clothed the poor children, made sure they had bed to sleep on cold nights, and fed them using of course the aristocrat's money.
Five years ago on one cold midnight, the mistress opened her door to a young lady who came to the Walter House shivering and ragged. She welcomed her with warm cocoa and wrapped her with the thickest blanket she could find. She tried to interview the young girl, yet in her dismay, she did not utter a word, not even her name. After her cocoa, she just stared at the perplexed madame, until the mistress finally offered her a bed to sleep and a house to stay. The girl followed her to the bedroom, and still did not speak of a single word.
Now that young girl had grown into a beautiful young lady. She was the oddest of the children. She was rather fond of mystery books, and would spend her day reading rather than playing with the other children. The mistress took light of it, she really didn't mind as long as she would do her chores right. She eventually spoke of her name yet it took her a year or two to do so. It was not until Mr. Woods asked her that she revealed something about her.
The young lady grew rather fond of the gardener Mr. Woods, who was a father figure to her. He sneaked out books for her to satisfy her thirst for mystery, and he made puzzles for her to solve. The girl was a brilliant child but not a genius. She had practiced her observation skills over the years, and she became good at it. When she was fifteen, as a reward for solving one of Mr. Woods' puzzle, he gave her a newsboy hat. She wore it then everyday.
.......
"Can I help?"
Miss Felice did not turn to know who it was. She recognized the voice and answered in a cold way. "It's Monday. I'm assigned to wash the plates today. I don't want the mistress to think I've manipulated you into helping me."
The young lad, who was stubborn enough to dismiss the young lady, took a plate and started washing it. He was a nice young man. Fairly enough he was well proportioned and his dark hair suited his deep brown eyes. He was under the roof of the Walter's far more earlier than Felice. In fact he spent most of his childhood under Mrs. Baker's care when he was welcomed about three years of age. Now he had grown into a fine lad of nineteen, parallel that of Felice. They two were the eldest among the children, and the ones who stayed much longer in the house. For Felice, no couple really wanted her for she was far too old and far too odd to be someone's daughter they would always say. As for Louis, many chose him, not just two or three but countless, yet he refused to be in anybody else's care than of Mrs. Baker, for the sole reason that he wanted to stay for Felice.
There was silence at first, and the air was filled with awkwardness, until Felice spoke.
"Louis, you can rest now. I am no need of your help."
"But I must insist miss. I see no harm in extending help to anyone." he answered as he handed the young lady a towel to dry the plates.
Felice looked at him and accepted the towel. Her look never changed. She was still cold to the young lad, and her eyes remained bland. She knew Louis all too well, and the intentions behind his good deeds to her, for after all, he confessed his love to her not so long time ago.
"Sentiments."
There was a great pause. Louis did not utter a single word for he knew Felice wasn't finish yet.
"They make a person weak. Emotional attachment is a disgrace for it loses our self reliance and leads us to believe that we are part of a whole. That we're mere fragments of our own being divided by sentiments. We then feel worthless to lose the other ends of the strings. It's a shame, and it's all but not a mystery to me."
"Is that why you're cold to me?" The young lad paused and grabbed a towel to dry his hands. He then continued.
"You know it still won't change how I feel about you Miss. You are the mystery I chose to chase, and the riddle I want to outwit."
The young lady was left speechless. She knew she could try to outwit the young man but she chose not to. Her face remained cold, yet her eyes now started to glint. She was absorbed not by the witty utterances of the young man, but rather was captivated by how Louis was just like her- chasing a mystery doubtfully one can unravel.
"Good night Felice."
